


Missed Connections

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: A stranger is kind to Greg; he doesn't expect to meet him again.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 14
Kudos: 179
Collections: JustMystradeThoughts Plot Bunny Adoptions





	Missed Connections

Greg arrived at the airport at almost the last minute. Mum had said Grandmere didn't have much time, so he'd come straight from work with only his gym bag and a few clothes. He could get more in France. Right now he just needed to get to his family.

"The flight is very full, Mister Lestrade," said the sympathetic gate agent. "We'll try to get you on, but I can't promise."

"That's fine, just try, please." Greg gave him a quick smile, then stepped away to let him help someone else.

The waiting area was very full, if he needed any evidence this was going to be a difficult flight to get on. He walked away from the desk and towards a bank of outlets, glancing at his phone. It was almost dead.

He reached into his bag and realized he didn't have a charger with him. Greg cursed.

"Here, use mine," said a suited gentleman standing near the outlet, holding out the charge cord.

"Thanks, mate," said Greg distractedly, taking the cord and watching the phone start to charge.

"You're welcome," said the stranger. "Do you mind watching my bag a moment? I just need to grab something from the shop."

"No, of course," said Greg, giving him a distracted smile as he texted his mother.

The stranger turned and stepped away. Greg kept one eye on him as he moved around the tiny kiosk, silently praying that he'd get a seat.

The man returned in nearly record time, offering Greg a bottle of water. "Thank you," he said.

Greg accepted it. "You're welcome. Thank you for the charger."

"Well, clearly you're worried," he said.

"My grandmere," said Greg. "She's ninety-five, but has been in great shape up until she fell last week. The doctors aren't quite sure what happened, but it's like she's just decided enough is enough. My mum told me that I’d better come quick as I can."

"And here you are," he said. "I do hope you get a seat."

"Thanks. What about you, just going to Paris for business?"

"Yes. Nothing terribly important."

The gate attendant announced they would begin boarding. "Keep the charger," he said. "I picked up another one."

"Ta," said Greg, distracted as his phone pinged with another message from his mother.

When Greg looked up again the man was already in line to board the plane

Greg felt miserable as he watched the busy waiting area empty out. Just when he was about to give up hope, the gate agent waved him over. Greg grabbed the charger and his bag.

"We've got one seat," he said, handing him a boarding pass.

"Thank you, so much," said Greg, aware he was the last person to get on the plane and nearly sprinting to the plane's door.

The seat was at the very back of the plane, but Greg didn't care. He texted his mother about his arrival and settled back, carefully winding the charger's cord and sticking it in his pocket as the plane started off across the tarmac.

**

Grandmere passed only an hour after Greg arrived at her bedside. It was very much in keeping with the tone of her life that she would not only decide when she was done, but that she'd wait for the last person to arrive.

Greg helped his family as much as he could over the next week or so, even if it was making a meal or helping to clean Grandmere's apartment.

His mum came to him with a plane ticket near the end of two weeks. "You can go home, Greg. But we’re glad you’ve been here."

Greg hugged her and took the ticket. "Thank you. And thank you for getting me here on time."

"I'm just glad you made your flight. Someone was watching out for you."

**

Greg got to the airport with a bit of time to kill. He walked into a pub near the gate and did a double-take. Sitting at the bar was the same stranger from his flight into Paris. Fixing his hair, Greg made his way over and took the seat next to him. "Good evening."

The man nodded at him. "Well, hello. Going home? Did you arrive in time?"

"Yeah, thank you," Greg ordered a drink. "She passed not long after I got here, but I made it."

"I'm sorry for your loss, but glad you made the flight. I'm heading back to London myself."

Greg cocked his head. "Are you? Which flight?"

He pulled out his boarding pass to show him. Greg stared at it, then pulled out his own. They were sitting side by side.

"Well," said the man. "Allow me to formally introduce myself then, Mycroft Holmes." He offered his hand.

"Greg Lestrade." He shook, smiling for what felt like the first time in days.

"I must say, once is chance, twice feels like more," said Mycroft.

"It does," said Greg, pulling out a pen and scribbling his phone number on a napkin. "There, before I forget."

Mycroft smiled and tucked it into his inside jacket pocket. "Excellent. Now, tell me more about yourself?"

They fell into easy conversation. One that kept up as they walked to the gate, then continued as they boarded the plane and on all the way to London. The start of something new, even in a time of sorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to theartstudentyouhate for reading along. And of course to Paia for the pile o' plot bunnies.


End file.
